"No gasoline!" she exclaimed, in a rage. "We'll have to run for it."
The farmhouse was in sight now, about a half mile ahead. Aggie groaned, but got out and turned to Myrtle. But Myrtle was sitting back in the car with a gleam of triumph in her eyes.
"Certainly not" she said calmly.
"Very well," Tish replied. "I don't know but you are just as well where you are. That last car is done for, if I know anything about barbed wire, and they're not likely to chase a machine on foot. They're probably on their way back to town now, and I hope the policeman has to hop all the way. It's only forty miles or so."
She then started up the road, but turned:
"Bring her suitcase, Lizzie," she said. "There's no use leaving it there for tramps to come along and steal it."
She then stalked majestically up the road, and we followed. I am not a complaining woman, but if that girl had left any clothes at home they couldn't have amounted to much. Aggie refused to help with the suitcase, as she had her knitting bag, and as any exertion in summer brings on her hay fever.
It was perhaps five minutes later that I heard a faint call behind me, and turned to see Myrtle
